The Warning
by KatieG
Summary: Prior to testifying in court, Hunter is sent a powerful, personal warning


  
The Warning - Part One  
  
An attractive older woman approached the staff sergeant and said, "Excuse me, I'm looking for Dee Dee McCall."   
"They just got back," the officer replied. "She's around here somewhere. Why don't you just have a seat over there at her desk." The officer quickly pointed in the direction of McCall's desk and then walked away.   
"Where?," the woman asked, but the officer was no where to be found. The woman began to wander through the squad room paying attention to all the officers. She spied Hunter, sized him up, and moved to him. She began to look over his shoulder.   
Hunter turned his head to the right so that he was staring the woman in the eye. "Can I help you?," he asked.  
"No," the woman replied and moved away slightly.   
Hunter turned back to his work. The woman began peering over his shoulder again and asked, "Are you married?"   
"What?  
"Are you married?  
He shot her a quizical look, said "No," and turned back to work. (There was a long pause).  
Beginning to peer over his other shoulder, she asked, "Engaged?"  
"No. Is there something I can help you with?, he asked testily.  
"No. I'm just waiting for someone. (pause) My daughter. (pause) She's gorgeous. She's not married either. Perhaps you'd like to join us for lunch.  
"Excuse me, but I am trying to work here."  
"Oh, yes ... I see that. (pause) What about dinner? Are you free for dinner?  
Suddenly there was a commotion. McCall entered with a suspect. She was dressed as a hooker with tight spandex pants, a halter top, and high heels. The suspect broke free. There was a slight scuffle as she restrained him ... slamming him into the wall and pulling his arms behind him in an effort to cuff him.   
"Someone help her," the attractive older woman cried.  
"She can handle it," Hunter said assuredly and walked out of the room.  
McCall suddenly realized that she was wearing spandex and didn't have any cuffs on her. "Can I get some cuffs?," she asked with her palm outstretched. All the men in the precinct threw cuffs to her. The cuffs all fell around her missing her hand. She smiled sacastically and blinked her eyes, "Thanks." She picked up a pair of cuffs up and put them on the suspect. She turned the man over to an officer for booking and crossed to her desk.  
"Mom!," she exclaimed. What are you doing here?"  
"What are you wearing? You look like a prostitute!," her mother said disapprovingly.  
"Well ... that's the general idea, Mom."  
"It's terrible. You come to work dressed like this?   
"Mom ...," McCall said with frustration.  
"It's disgraceful, Dee Dee. You should put on some clothes. How do you expect to get a decent man if ...", her mother chided.  
"Mom!," Dee Dee raised her voice, "What are you doing here?"  
"I came for a little visit. Put on some clothes and we'll go for lunch."  
"Hunter. McCall!," Charlie called out.  
"Mom, I can't. I've gotta get back to work. Look, here are the keys to my house. Make yourself comfortable and we'll have dinner, ok?"  
"McCall!," Charlie bellowed.  
"I'll see you later, Mom." McCall heads off to Charlie's office. Hunter was already inside.   
"How you two coming on that prostitute case?", Charlie inquired.  
"It's closed, Charlie. We brought the guy in a few minutes ago and McCall will have the paperwork to you by tomorrow," he said smiling at McCall. She shot him a look.  
"Good. Then I've got a hot one for you. There's a DB in Beverly Hills. Here's the address," Charlie said and handed McCall a piece of paper.  
"Okay, Charlie. We are on our way."   
"Oh and Hunter. This is a very affuent neighborhood. Put on a shirt and a tie. And McCall ..."  
"Right Charlie. In my locker," McCall quickly interjected.  
"I don't know McCall. I like it, it's you," Hunter grinned.  
  
*********************Three Days Later - Early Morning **********************  
  
Hunter and McCall are seated at their desks doing paperwork. Hunter is wearing jeans and a white t-shirt.  
"So ... how is it going with your mother?," Hunter teasingly asked.  
"Shut up Hunter."  
"A little testy this morning, aren't we?," he quiped.  
"In the three days she's been here, she has rearranged my cabinets, thrown out my unsuitable clothing, cancelled my dinner engagement, and has me married off to you." She snuck a look at him; gaging his reaction. For one brief moment she wondered what it would be like to be married to Rick Hunter.   
"Well it could be worse," Hunter countered.  
"Yeah, right."  
"She could have you married off to Bernie," he offered.  
"Great, thanks."   
"Well at least we know one thing, McCall."  
"Oh yeah and what is that?," she inquired.  
"She has good taste!," he grinned. McCall shook her head. God he amused her.  
Then the phone rang and Hunter answered it. "Homicide."  
"Is this my friend Hunter - star of the streets," the voice on the phone says.  
"What can I do for you Sporty?"  
"It is what I can do for you man."  
"This better be good Sporty."  
"Would I bother you fine officers if it wasn't important," said Sporty.  
"Okay, shoot Sporty."  
"Well there is a little matter of some green, Hunter."  
"You know how this works, Sporty. What da ya got?"   
"I heard you were working on a murder up in Beverly Hills. A classy little doll that got iced. There is a dude down on Euclid and Le Brea who you might want to check out."   
"A name Sporty. I need a name."   
"You got a name Hunter. Although I don't know what your mama was thinkin'."  
"Not my name Sporty," Hunter said shaking his head.  
"Name's Henry. Henry Boyd. Oh and Hunter, the dude is mean and he's got heat."  
"Thank you Sporty."   
"My pleasure. Stay cool."  
"Let's shake it McCall. Sporty gave us a lead."  
"Hunter. Don't you have to be in court? The Parker case. Big mob case. Remember?"  
"Oh God. Is that today?"  
"Well it starts today, yeah."  
"Why is it cops have to appear on the first day. I don't even testify until tomorrow."  
She nods knowingly. "I'll run down the lead from Sporty," said McCall.  
"Don't you have to spend time with your mother planning our wedding or something?," he said sarcastically.  
"No," she said matching his sarcasm. She's leaving this afternoon.   
He starts opening and closing the drawers of his desk frantically.  
Shouldn't you be getting to court?" She watches him curiously. "What are you doing? What are you doing?," she asked.  
"I'm looking for my shirt. My going to court shirt."  
"In your desk drawer?," she asked incredulously.  
Hunter pulled a very wrinkled blue shirt from one of his desk drawers, put it on. "Oh Hunter. You're not going to wear that shirt, are you?"  
"Why not? This is my favorite shirt. What's the matter with this shirt? Why don't you like this shirt?," he inquired.   
"It's seen better days, ya know. You should be arrested for wearing that thing. You ought to put it to good use somehow."  
"Yeah?," he said.  
"Yeah! Like ah ... wax your car with it, start a fire ..."  
"Hey, this is a sacred piece of clothing McCall. I always wear this shirt to court. It brings me luck. Besides, blue is my color."  
"I'll be sure and point that out to district attorney Beth Sorenson," she replied with a tinge of jealousy. She knew he was interested in Beth. She also knew she had no right to have the feelings she was having.  
"You can be replaced," he threatened."  
"It would have to be one hell of a machine," she fired back, shoving her emotions aside.  
"I love it when you talk dirty," he teased. He stood up and put on the jacket hanging over his chair; preparing to leave.  
"Good luck," she said singsongily.  
"Watch your back. Sporty said the guy is carrying."  
"Such protectiveness," she chided. Goodbye Hunter," she replied with a lilt. The playfulness drained from her body and her heart filled with emotion. She watched him go.   
  
********************* Later that evening - McCall's house *********************  
  
McCall entered the house and sighed a sigh of relief. She was glad her mother had left. Then she felt guilty. She loved her mother, but the visit had been stressful. She doesn't understand my work or my relationship with Rick, she thought. "Hell, I don't even know if I understand my relationship with Rick sometimes. Why did I feel so jealous? I can't be in love with him. I shouldn't be in love with him. God he evokes so many emotions in me," she said aloud. She pushed the thought out of her mind. As she walked down the hall a man stepped from the shadows, grabbed her by the throat with his left hand, and threw her against the wall. She tried to speak and the grip around her neck tightened. "Don't talk. Just listen," the man said. "I want to know what Hunter is planning to say in his testimony tomorrow."   
The grip on her neck released slightly. "I don't know," she cried.  
The man's right arm shot out and punched her in the face. Her head jerked backwards slamming into the wall.  
"I don't know," she insisted. "We didn't work together when he was on that case."  
The man's fist shot out again. "You're partners. You can't tell me you haven't discussed this case. This high profile case. I want to know what he is going to say."  
"I don't know," she insisted again. She slammed her heel into the man's instep and jammed her knee up into his stomach. She was free, but before she knew it another man suddenly appeared. How could she have not known he was there? A struggle ensued. McCall's right hook shot out with a force that surprised even her. The second man went down. But the first man had regained his footing and tackled her. She went flying into the glass coffee table and a huge shard jammed into her stomach. She flinched in pain. She was bleeding profusely from both her head and her stomach. The men tied her hands and dragged her to a chair.   
"Let's try this again. I want to know what Hunter knows about the Parker case." McCall stayed silent. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It's your choice." McCall knew what they were fishing for. Hunter had told her the other day. He had information that had not yet been made available to the public. Information that would seal this case and break apart at least one mob family. But she would never betray Rick. Suddenly, a shock ran through her. The pain was intense. She heard the crackling of the stun gun. "Don't want to talk. Let's see how long you last with that," the first man said as he struck her again with the gun. Time past slowly. McCall didn't think she could tolerate much more. She could feel herself starting to lose consciousness, but she kept thinking about protecting Rick. "She's not going to talk," the second man said as he pulled out his gun. "Don't kill her," insisted the first man. "Let's use this. Let's turn this around. We'll send him a little warning."  
  
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Hunter was wearing his infamous blue shirt. He was entertaining a young blonde at his house for dinner. He didn't know why he was doing this. She certainly was a looker, but she wasn't ... he could think of a million things she wasn't, but the one answer that stuck in his head was that she wasn't McCall.   
"Tell me about your work ... your partner," the girl asked.  
"Why my partner?," Hunter suddenly felt exposed.  
"Well, aren't you cops very close to your partners? I just wonder what it's like to work so closely with someone like that?" "Well, I ... I would say we are close. We ... we count on each other. Cover each other's backs. Stuff like that," he sputtered trying to be vague. How could he possibly explain his relationship with McCall to this woman. To anyone. He wasn't so clear on it himself. It was very confusing. His attraction to her. His friendship with her. He didn't know how to categorize their relationship or his feelings for her. Suddenly, there was a sound at the back of the house. "Shhhh," he warned. He listened carefully. He had thought he heard a sound. He was sure he had. He grabbed his gun and moved toward the back of the house. Then from the front of the house came a thud and the doorbell began to ring. Hunter motioned to the blonde woman to get down and headed for the door. He looked out the peep hole, but saw nothing. He opened the door, looked around and still saw nothing. He took a step forward and kicked into something. He dropped his gaze. There was McCall lying in a heap on his stoop. Blood pouring out of her stomach and above her eye. She was trembling in shock.  
"Oh God, Dee Dee?" Her breathing was shallow and raspy. He grabbed the phone from a side table and called 911. "This is Sergeant Rick Hunter, LA homicide. Officer down. I need an ambulance at 456 Mesden Drive, Code 3." His date stood frozen at the sight. He yelled to her, " Get me a blanket, now!" He was gripped with fear. He took off his wrinkled blue shirt and push it into the stomach wound to try to control the bleeding. "Dee Dee. Take it easy. Hang on. You're going to be fine. Just fine," he said partially trying to convince himself. "Who did this Dee Dee? Did you see who did this?"  
The girl handed him the blanket and he wrapped it around his partner for warmth and continued to press on the wound.   
She struggled to speak. It was so difficult to breathe, let alone speak. "Warning," she managed to struggle out. "It's ... warning."  
"A warning? What?," he pressed.  
As the ambulance approached she lost consciousness.   
  
************************************************************************  
  
Charlie and Hunter paced the hospital corridor. "What was taking so damn long," Hunter wondered. Just then, a doctor appeared. "Sergeant Hunter?"   
"Yeah. How is she?"  
"We've moved her to the ICU. I want to keep an eye on her. I am worried about possible internal bleeding. She had a collapsed lung, which we inflated; she has three broken ribs; contusions; abrasions; a nasty stomach wound, which required some surgery; and a gash above her eye, which required some stitches.  
"She going to be okay?," Charlie asked.  
"A little too early to tell, but she should be barring no internal bleeding. But I have to be honest with you, she took one hell of a beating.  
"Thank you Doctor. Can I see her now?," Hunter asked silently willing the answer.   
"Sure, but keep it brief. She's in a great deal of pain. Room 325, down the hall." The doctor began to walk away, but turned sharply. "Oh, and Sergeant ..."  
"Yeah."  
The doctor hesitated. "Look. I'm no expert, but if you want my opinion ..."  
"Go on. What?"  
"Well there are marks on her body."  
"What kind of marks?," Hunter demanded.  
"Well, like I said, I'm no expert, but in my opinion, they are consistent with marks made by a stun gun. I would say that your partner, Sergeant, was systematically tortured, because she is covered with those marks."  
Both Charlie and Hunter were stunned.  
  
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Hunter entered the hospital room. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. He was covered with blood stains. She looks so pale and small lying on that bed surrounded by those machines, Hunter thought. He quietly slid into the chair next to the bed and reached for her hand. There was a welt on her hand and her wrist. He pushed the sleeve of her gown up slightly to reveal many more marks on her arm. Rage consumed him. She stirred. He supressed his rage. Her eyes flickered open and closed and she slowly turned to look in Hunter's direction.  
"Hi," he said softly.  
"Where's your shirt?," she struggled to ask.  
"I took your advice. I put it to good use." She forced a smile. (Pause). As he looked at her, he suddenly knew. He knew what their relationship was. At least on his end. He was in love with her and he couldn't imagine his life without her.  
"How you feeling?," he probed gently.  
"Like I ate one of your chili dogs," she managed to say.  
He smiled. "That good, huh?"  
"Yeah." Her eyes flickered, she took a labored breath, and fell back asleep. He felt a flood of emotion. He held her hand for the rest of the night; refusing to let go.  
  
  
The Warning - Part Two  
  
McCall's eyes shot open. The pain was intense. She tried to press the call button, but she couldn't quite reach it. She rolled her head to the left - toward the door - and saw that Hunter was asleep in the chair by her bedside. He was still holding her hand. She tried to speak. "Hunter," she managed to slip out quietly and with effort. She tried again, "Hunter". He didn't stir. She took in a breath. It even hurt to breathe. Her eyes began to well with tears. "Hunter," she said again with difficulty. He stirred.   
"Hey. How you doing?," he asked as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.  
She swallowed and licked her bottom lip. Her breathing was still raspy. She cleared her throat and spoke, "Could you a ... please ..."  
"You okay?"  
"Lot a pain," she managed to say. One loan tear began to roll down her left cheek.   
He ran his hand gently up her check and brushed away the tear.  
"Hold on," he said. He quickly stepped out of the door and yelled, "Can we get some help here?" McCall was never one to complain. She had a high tolerance for pain. You had to in this job. If she was complaining, she must really be hurting, Hunter thought.   
A nurse appeared. "What seems to be the problem sir?"  
"She is in a lot of pain. She needs something."  
"Well, I am sorry sir. I can't authorize that." She grabbed the chart off of the door pocket. "She isn't due for medication for another 30 minutes."  
"Just who CAN authorize it," he demanded.  
"Dr. Prescott. I would need to talk to Dr. Prescott," the nurse said flustered.  
"Then do it," he insisted. " Now!"  
The nurse scurried off and Hunter went back inside.  
"Hang in there Dee Dee. I'm gonna get you some help," he said with concern.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
The man could not believe his ears. How stupid could these imbeciles be? Did they really let the woman live? Did they really think a warning would dissuade that hard nosed detective? Had he taught them nothing? What was happening to the family? He would have to take care of things himself. He would insure that the detective's testimony never be heard. What was that old adage? If you wanted something done, do it yourself. He picked up the phone, dialed, and made the arrangements ... personally. He would not fail.   
  
************************************************************************  
  
Hunter and Dr. Prescott stood at the door to McCall's room.  
"I've put her on a morphine drip. Whenever she is in pain, all she has to do is press a button. She ought to be comfortable shortly," Dr. Prescott said. The doctor slipped out and Hunter went back to sit by McCall's side.  
"How you feelin'?," he asked.  
"Better. Thanks, Big Guy," she said softly.  
"Can you tell me what happened? Did you see who did this?," he asked as he reached for her hand.   
"Yeah. Two guys. Dark hair and eyes. One about 5' 9" , other about 6' 3" with a scar on his right hand. Long, deep scar. The smaller one ... he resembled Mike Giavonni. It wasn't him, but ... man there was a resemblance. Maybe related, ya know?" It was clear that she was exhausted and the conversation was taking its toll.  
"I'll check it out," he assured her. "Yesterday, you said the word warning." He looked at her intently. "What did you mean?"  
She cleared her throat. "They wanted to know what your testimony was going to be. When I wouldn't tell them, one of them was gonna kill me. The first guy stopped him."  
"No offense, but ... how come?"  
She chuckled ironically. "None taken. Good question. Said they would use me as a warning. A warning to you ... about testifying."  
"Testifying. Oh damn. What time is it?" He looked at his watch. "I am supposed to be in court," he exclaimed.  
"Go Hunter. Don't let them win," she whispered.  
"They won't." He looked at her longly and emphatically said, "You can bet on that."   
  
************************************************************************  
Court was already in session. Hunter climbed the stairs and pushed through the doors to the courtroom. He was still wearing the jeans and blood stained t-shirt. His timing was impecable. As he entered the room, the court officer called his name to take the stand. He was making his way up the corridor, when the judge stopped him. "Sergeant Hunter, approach the bench please." He approached the bench. "Do you dare disrespect my courtroom? What is the meaning of this attire, Sergeant?," she hissed.  
"I beg your pardon, Judge, but in an effort to sway my testimony, my partner was assaulted, tortured, and dropped on my doorstep last night. I came here straight from the hospital," he explained.  
The judge paused in an effort to digest the information. "In lieu of these circumstances Sergeant, I am postponing your testimony until later today. Go clean up and be back at this court at 3:00 pm. I'll hear your testimony then," she instructed.  
"Thank you, Judge." He started to descend the corridor; heading toward the exit, when suddenly there was a violent explosion. One which rocked the courtroom. Pieces of the witness stand spewed across the room , as did Hunter, the judge, and the court officer. Fire broke out and flames lept furiously. Panic ensued as spectators and court personnel raced for the exits. Hunter was lying near what used to be the judge's bench. He was eerily still. After a short delay, the sprinkler system kicked it. Water began to fall everywhere. Droplets splattered upon his face in a steady rhythm. He began to stir. He shook his head and tried to sit up. He felt a intense heat upon his face. He shielded his eyes and quickly scanned the courtroom. The court officer was lying among the rubble. He was most certainly dead. It was a haunting image. The judge lay two feet away. She and Hunter appeared to be the only other people left in the courtroom. He rushed to her and checked her pulse. She was still alive. He lifted her up and carried her towards safety; dodging flames and falling debrie. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. When they were safely outside, it struck him. Had he taken the stand as planned, he would have been dead. It was clear that the blast was intended to silence him. His rage increased. He silently swore his revenge.   
  
*************************** Later that afternoon ***************************  
  
Hunter made his way through the squad room. He was exhausted. He hadn't slept in the last two days. He was just about at his desk when Charlie summoned him.   
"Hunter, come in here." Charlie said as he leaned out of his office.  
"What's up Charlie?"  
"How you doing?," he asked.  
"I am fine, Charlie."   
"You're not looking so fine," Charlie replied.  
"Look, I'm fine. I've got work to do. If you don't mind ..."  
"I DO mind. I'm assigning Brad and Kitty McCall's case, Hunter."  
"Don't do that, Charlie," Hunter warned. "You can't do that."   
"I am still the Captain here, Hunter. Don't tell me what I can and can't do. Now I feel you are too close to this case. Your objectivity is blown. There is too much of a personal stake. There'll be no vigilantes in my department."   
"Vigilante?," Hunter retorted. Charlie, I ..."  
Charlie softened slightly. "Look I understand how you feel, but the answer is no. I want this by the book. Brad and Kitty are on the case. Besides, you are without a partner and you've got other cases to solve."  
Hunter stood frozen. He couldn't believe his ears.   
"It is because of my partner that I need ..."  
"Ut ... end of discussion," Charlie cut him off. "Now Kitty and Brad are wonderful detectives. They'll get these guys," Charlie reassured him.  
"Charlie," he started to protest.  
"I said enough." (Pause) "Now don't you have a Beverly Hills murder to solve."  
Hunter stormed out of the office. Charlie watched him go. He hated to do that to Hunter, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Hunter was too close to his partner. The objectivity wasn't there. He was running on pure emotion and that could get both Hunter and McCall killed. Charlie shook his head slightly. He took a swig of Mylanta, ran his hands across his face, let out a sigh, and reluctantly went back to work.  
  
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Hunter entered the morgue. His heart wasn't in this. He really didn't really care who killed some rich coke addict in Beverly Hills. What he cared about was McCall and "his" case. What should be his case. It couldn't hurt to check some stuff out while he was down here. Perhaps he could determine some information about the detonator from the court officer's body. The officer was the one standing closest to the witness stand. His body had to be carrying debrie from the bomb. From a distance the sound of music could be heard. If you could call it music. The damn sputtering of a tuba. He hung his head and shook it slightly. Took a deep breath and steeled himself up for the challenge.  
  
"Hello Carlos."  
"Hunter." He lowered his tuba and said, "What, on my dinner time, can I do for you?" He peered around Hunter looking for something.  
"Carlos. I need to know ... Carlos, Carlos!" There is a pause. "What are you looking for?," Hunter inquired.  
"The little fox. Where's the little fox?," Carlos said eagerly.  
"She's not here," Hunter said.  
"She's not here?"  
"She's not here, Carlos," Hunter said impatiently. "Now whata you got on the courtroom bombing?"  
"Where is she?," Carlos asked.   
"Carlos!" Hunter reined in his irritation and began to address the issue. "Haven't you heard?"  
"Heard what? No one tells us anything down here in the morgue. It's not exactly the epicenter of communication, ya know." Carlos leaned in close to Hunter and whispered, "Dead men don't tell tales, Hunter."  
"Great ... a morgue joke," Hunter said with a smirk. "McCall is in the hospital, Carlos."  
"She okay?"  
"Yeah, she's okay," he said sluffing it off. He didn't want to go there. Still he silently hoped he was right.  
"Give her my best."  
"Yeah, sure. Now what you got on the bombing?"  
"That your case?"   
"Yeah, Carlos it is," he lied. "Now give me what you got."  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Hunter entered the hospital room and stopped briefly. He was carrying a bag. McCall was sleeping with her left arm over her head on the pillow. She was still hooked up to machines. It killed him to see her so pained and vulnerable. His eyes lingered. God, even in this situation she is still so beautiful, he thought. He moved to her, reached into the bag, and silently slipped Mr. Mouth (her stuffed alligator) in the nook of her arm. She moved slightly and her left arm fell down around her waist; hugging the animal close. She slowly turned and looked to her left.  
"Mr. Mouth," she quietly said smiling.  
"He was lonely without you," Hunter replied; his statement somewhat revealing.   
"Thanks," she whispered sleepily.  
He began pulling items from the bag. First out was a pair of black lacey underpants. He was playing with them slightly. Teasingly, he looked at her questioningly. "I ..."   
She interupted him. "Hunter ... that my underwear?," she inquired. "What are you doin' with my underwear?," she asked breathily, unable to believe what she was seeing.   
"I brought you a few things from your house," he said.   
You been through my underwear?," she said incredulously.  
(Beat) "Sure," he said off the cuff ... like it was a given.  
"I can't believe you," she said somewhat singsongy.  
"Well it was a dirty job McCall, but somebody had to do it."  
"Put that away!," she insisted.  
"Stuffy, " he said.  
"Gutsy," she retorted.  
"Cranky," he replied. They both broke into a smile at the normalcy of this abnormal situaation. His heart filled.   
"Wait a minute. I am in no condition to have it out with you," she said - playing the sympathy card.  
His mood changed and he became serious.  
"Dee Dee ... I ..." Hunter began apologetically.   
She instinctively read him. "Hey Rick, this is not your fault. Not at all," she reassured him. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly.  
"I'm gonna get these guys, Dee Dee. Their gonna pay for this." She nodded in agreement. Her lids were heavy and sleep overtook her.  
  
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Hunter was seated at his desk. He was reviewing past associates of the Giavonni crime family. Those with experience with explosives. He was also exploring McCall's lead about Michael Giavonni having a brother or cousin who resembled him when he saw Charlie approaching. He quickly hurried to hide the papers he was reviewing and grabbed the Beverly Hills file.  
"Hey Charlie," Hunter said nonchalently.  
"Hunter, how's McCall doin?," Charlie asked.  
"I think she's better, Charlie. She's busting my chops."  
"Well, that's a good sign. Anything to report on the Beverly Hills case?"  
"Not yet, Charlie, but you'll be the first to know," he said with a slightly false tone.  
"Okay, well get on it."  
"Okay," Hunter replied. As soon as Charlie was out of sight, Hunter pulled out the mob files and began his work.  
  
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It was 2 am and Hunter hadn't slept in three nights. He thought about the past few days ... in particular, how scared he had been at the thought of losing McCall. He had never wanted to risk ruining their partnership, but after this week's events, he couldn't bear the thought of never knowing how it could be between them. He made a decision. He had to risk it. He had to take the chance. He had to tell her the feelings he had for her. He hoped their friendship and their partnership could survive if she didn't feel the same way. As had become his nightly routine, he drove to the hospital, slipped past the guard, and settled into the chair next to McCall's bed. He needed to be with her. His chest ached. God she was beautiful. Memories flooded him. Memories of the moments between them. Moments that were more real and intense than any he ever knew. Did she feel it too?, he wondered. In the morning he would talk to her. Tell her how he felt. Caution be damned.   
  
Daylight spilled into the room. Hunter awoke. Once again he was holding her hand. He watched her sleep. Over and over in his head he had rehearsed what he would say. "Dee Dee ... I need to talk to you ..."  
"Sure. What's up Big Guy?"  
"I ... I want to ..."  
"Hey ... it sounds serious."  
"It is serious, Dee Dee."  
"So shoot."  
"This whole experience has got me thinking. I mean ... I have always thought about you ... us being together, but I never wanted to ruin our partnership ... our friendship. But after this past week. Dee Dee, I ... I can't begin to tell you how I felt when I saw you on my stoop. My heart just stopped. I thought I was going to lose you and I couldn't ... I ... I can't imagine my life without you. I can't imagine not attempting to know how it could be between us." He hesitated slightly. "I love you Dee, Dee. I think I always have. I want to be with you. I need to know how you feel."  
McCall awoke. She looked at him and a smile broke out upon her face. He was there every morning when she awoke. It touched her heart. He smiled back ...  
"Hi."  
"Hi," she said somewhat lovingly. She was happy to see him.  
Now was the moment. He couldn't believe how nervous he was. "Dee Dee ... I need to talk to you ..."   
"Sure. What's up Big Guy."  
"I ... I want to ..."  
"Hey ... you okay? Sounds serious."  
"It is," he admitted.  
Just as he began to speak, the door opened. In came District Attorney Matt Simpson.  
"Dee Dee," he exclaimed. "I just got back into town and heard. Are you okay?"  
"Yeah, Matt. I'm fine."  
"I was so worried. I couldn't believe it what I heard."  
"Matt, I'm okay," she reassured.  
Interrupted, Hunter slowly faded into the background as Matt reached McCall. Matt kissed her somewhat passionately. Hunter felt a stab of pain.   
"What happened? Do you know who did this? What did the doctor say?," Matt fired questions one after another.   
Hunter quietly started to leave the room. McCall caught his eye and looked at him quizically. They exchanged a look. A look filled with deep intimacy, longing, love, and sadness.   
"Hunter," she said urgently. "You had something important to say. What was it?"  
He swallowed hard. "Another time, Dee Dee. Perhaps another time," he replied. He held her gaze for a moment longer and then exited the room. She couldn't stop looking at the door. She wondered what he wanted to say. She knew what her fantasy would be, but she was sure he would never cross that line. Still ... she wondered, wished, hoped. She forced herself to turn her attention back to Matt, but she wasn't really present. She was lost in her fantasy.   
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
